Away From It All
by Sammer Bananer
Summary: Harry finished his last year of school and has nothing to look forward to. An adventure about Harry Potter living on the streets with his new love for punk rock. Will he fall in love? Will he make it big and live his wildest dreams?
1. Welcome to paradise

**Hey, this is the second story I have ever written on Fan fic. Enjoy, AND PLEASE REVIEW! It means a lot to me if you do. I need feed back!**

**A note to you all: These characters are not mine, they are J.K Rowling's based on the Harry Potter series.**

Harry Potter sat outside, alone in the dark. The summer breeze brushed his face and messy jet black hair lightly to the side revealing the lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead as he sat there, cross legged on the curb of private drive in his warn out dirsty, converse shoes, deep in thought.

The Summer had been more depressing than ever. His terrible Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, and fat ass cousin Dudley had been an even worse nightmare then last year, and seemed to get worse every summer. Harry reached his breaking point. He couldn't even call them family or none the less relatives with out a feeling of sourness in the pit of his stomached which churned at the very thought of being related to these wretched people!

Harry had to do much labor now. He spent hours and hours in the hot summer heat, working outside not allowed any food, water, or a break. He often felt fatigue and threw upa lot.

When Harry wasn't out side he was being pushed around and forced to clean the house, or cook and watch his aunt, uncle, and cousin wolf down their meal in disgust as his very own empty stomach growled in protest.

After that, he would be sent up into his room at 8:00 and locked in to lie awake, staring up at the glistening night sky out his tiny window, on his bed, wondering how his two best friends in the whole wide world, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasly, (whom which he was never allowed to communicate with over the summer), were doing until he fell asleep, clutching his hungry stomach in pain until his unbearable longing for food and freedom put him to sleep. Eventually he'd wake up to his beloved snowy colored pet owl, Hedwing, clicking her beak and greeting Harry good morning, and he'd start his agonizing work again.

Harry usually dreamed of making an escape to Hogwarts, School of witch craft and wizardry often during summer, but now this was different, for Harry had just finished his last year in school, and was now off on his own, to explore the world and persue his future goals. Like he would have a future. Harry feared that he would be enslaved in this prison forever. His barred up, chained up windows, his wand and all magical items confiscated, door locked, alarms set, it was impossible to leave.

Harry was now a very depressed teen, and I wouldn't blame him. He had so much anger and hate in his life, and just wished it could all disappear. If only life were that easy for this poor boy. He didn't deserve this at all.

At least in this black hole of A life, when Harry was miserable and on the verge of tears, when the world was crashing down hopelessly onto his head, he new he would have one thing to make him feel better, and that was his guitar.

Before Harry left for the Hogwarts express for his last day of school and what was supposed to be the start of a new life, his friend Hermione bought him a special present from the muggle world; a shiny, beautiful electric guitar.

Harry could play the memory over in his head countless times as if it was just yesterday: The other kids on the train were peering down at the shiny, bright red fender guitar. The kids who were brought up in the wizarding world had never seen a muggle guitar before, so they laughed in unison at Harry's fascination. The instrument was like a mere used tissue to them. He ran his fingers down the six strings , than the One-piece Maple neck, and down to the untouched Rosewood fingerboard.

"What a piece of rubbish!" Harry could hear someone sneer behind him. But he sure as hell didn't care what the others thought, he was in total awe!

"Oh 'Mione!" He shouted , pulling her into a tight hug and kissing her on the cheek four times.

"I love you so much!" He said, his face buried in her shoulder.

Hermoine blushed a deep rosy color, almost as bright as the guitarwhen he let go.

"Oh-oh-uh, you're so very welcome H-Harry. But Ron helped pick it out too."

Harry gave Ron a crushing hug, still grining and ruffled his red hair happily.

"Thanks pal! You dunno how much this means to me!" Harry had said beaming at the gift.

Over the summer, Harry got hooked on punk rock, in which he'd sometimes listen to on his crappy stereo in his spare time. He was inspired and amazed by the drums pounding away and the beautiful guitar playing in a care free beat accompanied by the fun and down to earth vocals that stitched the whole thing together.

Harry had a nack for remembering the songs in his head word by word, note by note, and they would get driven into his brain like a disease taking over his mind. He'd began to copy the beats and patterns on his guitar, and sing along with his favorite songs. He had wicked skills and was a fast learner.

After tired days of work Harry Potter would slump onto his bed with no energy what so ever, angry and abused and start to scribble away songs he made up on parchment, stopping to slit his wrists to watch the red blood drip onto the fresh sheet of paper, easing the pain of his life.

Harry sighed deeply, peering down at his wrist which had fresh scars from the previous night, and down at his watch.

He squinted in the darkness.

7:55

_Better get inside before those bastards bitch at me again _

Harry thought, getting up.

Pain seared through his overworked legs as he approached his small jail of a home and entered limping up the stairs and toward his room which was all the way down the hall.

The house was dead silent.

The Dursley's were probably out at dinner know those stuck up ass holes, and Dudley was probably out side setting up fire crackers outside with his stupid friends noisily like the dumb asses they were, hoping to get caught and blame Harry so he could enjoy his uncle beating Harry as punishment.

Harry knew that when the Dursley's returned they would check up on Harry first thing for he was 'out of control' and a 'rebel' as the Dursley's would say to guests as an excuse from them to hate Harry, so there was no point on coming home late for he knew he'd be screwed.

Harry clicked on the radio and collapsed onto the bed.

Just by the into of the song, Harry knew the words instantly and began to sing in his amazing voice.

**"Pay attention to the cracked streets and the broken homes  
Some call it slums some call it nice  
I want to take you through a wasteland I like to call my home  
Welcome to Paradise **

A gunshot rings out at the station  
Another urchin snaps and left dead on his own  
It makes me wonder why I'm still here  
For some strange reason it's still now feeling like my home  
I'm never gonna go..."

Harry loved times like these when he could just relax and let the music take him away. He imagined a place he could call home, like in the song.

He took off his shirt to reveal his sweaty abs which had been formed from so much hard work, and threw it to the floor. He continued to pull his pants and throw them across the room.

He sat there,his now quite sexy body drenched in sweatin just his boxers in his un-air conditioned room, sticking his hands down his pants to masturbate, still singing.

**"Dear mother, can you hear me laughing'?  
It's been six whole months since I have left your home  
It makes me wonder why I'm still here  
For some strange reason it's still now feeling like my home  
I'm never gonna go **

Dear mother, can you hear me whinin'?  
It's been three whole weeks since I have left your home  
This sudden fear has left me tremblin'  
Cause now it seems I am out here on my own  
And I'm feeling so alone."

He sat there, care free for a moment, having some time that didn't have to do with work, no Dursleys or any of that shit. Just punk rock and self pleasure.

_If only life was more like this_, He thought.

Little did he know, life perhaps _could_ be like this for him very, _very_ soon.


	2. The Day I Met Ange

Harry woke up bright and early to his run-down alarm clock ringing in his ears annoyingly. He felt around for the 'off' button, his eyes still closed. The first bit of morning sun rise was creeping down the streets, and streamed through his window, illuminating particles of dust that floated about the small room. Hedwing chirped hapilly at her master as Harry sat up from his bed tiredly andshovedon his glasses. Yawning, he walked over to the cage and reached his hand in, stroking the beutiful owl. Hedwing closed her eyes in joy and stretched one leg back.

"G' mornin Hedwing." Harry said with a sleepy smile.

She clicked her beak happily. Harry walked over toward his dresser, pulled open a drawer and retrieved a dead mouse.

"Breakfast is served. Try not to eat it in one bite. It's the last one, and who knows how many more days It'll be 'til I can find more."

She gratefully tore up her morning meal.

Harry turned to look at his clock. It read 8:00 in big, red numbers. Like his beloved owl, Harry felt grateful as well this Saturday morning. Not because he was chowing down on a dead rodent (Like he would ever dream of doing that), but because on week ends he was allowed more time to sleep in. Usually he was forced to wake at around 4 AM.

Harry pulled on a fresh black tee shirt and the ripped, grass stained jeans he wore the day before. He was about to leave his room to start breakfast for the Dursley's when he herd A soft crunch, coming from the bottom of his tennis shoe.

"Oh shit, what the fuck did I break this time?" he said to himself.

Puzzled, Harry removed his foot from the spot to see an elegant parchment envelope with familiar handwriting on the front. A wave of hope splashing over him, he hastily tore open the envelope.

Dear Harry,

How's it going, mate? I'm missing you so much. How come you never write? Anyway, Hermione is here for the Summer as usual. Same old same old, nothing new going on. We wish you could be here. Mum and dad says that Hermione and I can come down there in October. Can't wait to see you.

We miss you too much,

Ron.

Harry sighed. He longed to see his friends again. He longed to write back. But he knew he couldn't. Suddenly there was a loud, violent knock at the door, startling Harry out of his day dreams.

"Open up boy!" Yelled uncle Vernon pounding his fists harder than ever on the wood.

Harry quickly pulled up his mattress and slid the envelope under.

He opened the door to his uncle who was purple in the face.

"Where is breakfast!" He snapped.

"Sorry." Harry murmured, trying to hold back the annoyance in his voice.

"Get your ass into that kitchen right now you ungrateful little rat!"

-  
August passed by in a flash. September flew by, full of pain and misery. October made Harry long for his friends who never came to visit. November started to cool down. And by December, a new blanket of snow had joyfully fallen on Private Drive. Harry's horse like aunt handed him a five dollar bill. He was surprised to see bony hands clutching the money with hate instead of hoofs.

"Pick up some bread and milk. Be back in fifteen minutes." she said coldly.

"Um, this isn't enough to pay for the bus."

"Don't be stupid, who says you're going by bus?" she grunted.

"Well than there's no way I can walk there and make it home by-"

"Shut up and go before I change it to five minutes! If you're not back by then you get three extra hours worth fucking chores, got that!"

"Yes."

Harry cursed under his breath, wishing he could zap the living day lights out of his aunt right about now with his handy-dandy wand as he walked out the front door.

-  
Harry looked down at his watch. He had been out for 12 minutes and he had just entered the run-down gas station. He was greeted by the warmth of the store, for it was freezing cold outside, turning Harry's face raw and red. The aroma of Star bucks coffee made his stomach growl. It was impossible to get there and back in 15 minutes. So in other words, he was fucking screwed. There was no point in rushing, because he'd never make it there in time anyway, so he slowly walked down the isles, grabbing what his stupid aunt needed. At the counter while he paid for his goods, something caught his eye. It was the cashier. A pretty girl, who looked just about the same age as Harry. She was dressed in all black, with a white scarf around her neck. She looked up at him and smiled, her bright blue eyes like an ocean of crystals. Her eyes were heavily done with black eyeliner, and her luscious lips were a shade of bright cherry red, very noticeable on her very pale face. A few strands of long, shiny black hair tumbled over her face as she shyly smiled at him.

Harry suddenly felt his face heat up and he started to feel a lump in his throat.

"That'll be $4.50" she said, holding out a graceful hand which had, short, black painted nails.

Harry stumbled over the counter as he searched his pockets for loot , nearly dropping a quarter he discovered which slipped out of his sweaty hands.

He handed the beautiful girl the crumpled dollar bill.

She handed him back the change, their hands touching for a minute which made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up.

Their eyes met, and to Harry's surprise, she started to talk to him.

"Hey, are you new here? I don't think I've seen you around."

"Um, er, no. N-n-no-no I just-"

Oh great Harry thought I can't say I don't get out much because she'll think I'm a lazy bum.

"I just don't come here much.That's all. I usually shop at that store by...uhh..-"

He pointed in a random direction.

"Over there." he blushed a furious shade of red.

YOU DUMB FUCK, HARRY! he thought to himself.

"Oh, okay." the young lady replied with a shy little laugh.

Harry didn't want this conversation to end, so he quickly scanned the room to save himself. It was no use. His eyes went right down to where her breasts were.

Bingo! There was her name tag! Thank god for Hary's perverted instincts.

"So... uhhhh, you're name is Angelina?"

Duh! he thought It says it on the fucking name tag, idiot!

"Er, yeah. Angelina Taylors" Angelina said. "But you can call me Ange. And you are?"

"H-harry Potter." stuttered Harry.

"Mmm, Harry. It's very nice to meet you." she replied in a sexy voice, making Harry feel redder than ever.

Oh shit, not another fucking boner. Not now! he thought to himslef.

Angelina turned around to look at the clock on the far end of the store.

"Oh shoot, break time." she said, collecting a black and white striped AC/DC bag and a guitar case.

Harry's heart lept.

"You play?"

"Oh, yes."

"So do I!"

"Cool, ever heard of Underground Ink?"

"Um, no, I don't think so."

"Oh, well It's this great place where punk bands and stuff hang out. It's full of real kick ass music lovers. You should visit sometime, you just take a left down the Street 7'11 is on, turn left, and you'll see this huge pipe. Just meet me there if you can. I'm going to have a performance 7:00 on Friday."

"Oh, awesome! I'll be sure to make it!" Harry was overjoyed.

She smiled again.

"Cool. Well, I gotta go. See ya Harry. " She ran her fingers through Harry's jet black hair in a sexy way, and winked.

"Bye." Harry said in a zombie like voice admiring her body as she, walked out the from store.

-  
Harry clicked on the radio, tuning it until the staticy fuzz formed into beautiful punk rock music. Sitting in my room last night Staring at the mirror I couldn't find a reason why I couldn't be near her

'Cause you are the one that started To make me feel this way And every night I'm thinking About the words you'd say

Pictures going through my mind When we're together All these long and sleepless nights Will I ever get better

Harry recognized yet another one of his favorite Green Day songs. He was in awe to hear it, for it came out in 1989.

He listened to the words carefully. He could SO relate to what the song was saying. For every day after Harry had met Angelina, he couldn't get his mind off her. He wanted to see her pretty face again, and hear her voice again. And touch her hand again. He wanted to hold her, to kiss her, to just be with her. Harry couldn't belive he could have feelings for some girl he had just met at a gas station. He didn't think that was good or healthy.

That night he just sat there, staring up at the ceiling, which he couldn't see because he was in pitch black dark, listening to the radio, thoughts of Ange flooding his thoughts

'Cause you are the one that started To make me feel this way And every night I'm thinking About the words you'd say 'Cause you are THE ONE THAT I WANT

Now you know how I feel This love is forever You make my life seem so unreal Will I ever get better?

He sighed deeply, taking off his glasses and placing them on the drawer beside his rickety bed. He had never longed for someone this much.

This is just probably lust. he thought to himself.

Or was it?

And in the background, the radio chimed it's tunes into the pure darkness, fading away into Harry's dreams.

'Cause you are the one that started To make me feel this way And every night I'm thinking About the words you'd say

'Cause you are THE ONE THAT I WANT.

'Cause you are THE ONE THAT I WANT.

'Cause you are THE ONE THAT I WANT.

'Cause you are the one that I waaaaaaant!


End file.
